


Orange and Red Sweaters of Desert Origins

by cryingfanaticse



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Christmas Sweaters, Fascinating, M/M, dumb fluff, orange and red really don't go together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-11
Updated: 2014-12-11
Packaged: 2018-03-01 02:24:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2756102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cryingfanaticse/pseuds/cryingfanaticse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock takes up knitting and the crew of the Enterprise take up the quest of the suppressed giggles. Who knew Jim Kirk would look so good in orange?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Orange and Red Sweaters of Desert Origins

**Author's Note:**

> Imagine your OTP wearing dumb, ugly Christmas sweaters. Bonus if they match. Even bigger bonus if person A or B was the one to make the sweaters and the other grudgingly wears it to not hurt their feelings  
> B) Yeah.

James Tiberius Kirk knows his color wheel. He can pick out a matching tie to any dress, suit himself up in the colors that people avoid in fear of clashing, and get dressed in a matter of 20 seconds and still come out with an impeccable color wheel. Though clothing on the Enterprise is somewhat limited to a scheme of black + (primary color), Jim has not abandoned his taste. This is why he basically recoils as a red and orange monstrosity is unwrapped before him. It's all he can do not to shove it off his lap, but Spock is staring at him with a barely cocked head and bright eyes that Jim can just see chanting 'does this please you, captain?'. 

"I....Wow. Thanks, Spock. It's uh, pretty."

"Thanks are not necessary. It is Christmas and you are my friend, Jim." 

"Riiight. Did you make this your self?" Jim lifts up the neatly folded sweater and inspects one of the arms which appears to have more than a few unnecessary bulges.

"Indeed. The act of knitting is... relaxing and I find it comparative to meditation." Spock is looking at him dead serious and Jim's hoping that Spock's new found love of knitting wool nightmares isn't going to turn into a _thing_ because Jim doesn't think he can handle wearing something this... goddamn hideous more than once a month. Because, of course, Jim is going to wear it. It may look like a child ate 3 fucking cans of cold spaghettios and upchucked it when their body realized that spaghettios are _fucking disgusting_ , but Jim is going to wear and bear that sweater like a cross.  
Jim had gone beyond what was necessary to prove himself to his first officer, from the jokes-that-were-not-jokes to the chess games, hell, to the away missions where Spock had Jim's back and Jim had Spock's. What had gone from a professional relationship had quickly turned into a personal one, with Spock's dry wit filling in the once empty spaces of Jim's conversations with the man and chess every night, always in one of their quarters because goddamn the rec room could be crowded and Spock didn't like crowded places (also Jim reveled in those quiet moments he go with his first officer. Nothing to interrupt them and the quiet talk that ranged from the efficiency of the warp coils to the new way Nyota was putting up her hair).

***

So Jim wears the sweater to the next crew meeting. Red, yellow, blue, and orange, Jim feels nausea imagining what he looks like, but dammit, he's faced down star ships and emperors, so Jim squares his shoulders and walks in.

McCoy guffaws, Nyota giggles like she knows something Jim doesn't, Chekov sighs in sympathy, and Sulu raises an eyebrow as if it say, "I know your suffering, and I am proud." Spock just looks inordinately pleased with himself, in his stoic, Spock way (in other words he remains at attention, but his _eyes_ glimmer and goddamn yes Jim notices these things). 

"So...Business." Jim starts his review of the ship, ignoring the quiet snickers and knowing looks that pass and wave around the table. 

***

"So Jim." McCoy starts, sitting across from Jim at his office desk. "Are you fucking now?"

Jim violently inhales his shot of whiskey and starts to choke. Bones looks bored while Jim pulls himself together (goddammit he IS a doctor) and beats a hasty reply.

"What?! What, no, me and Spock? No. No, I mean, not that I haven't thought about but... it's not like that. We're friends, Bones." 

McCoy only raises an eyebrow and takes another sip of whiskey. "Well, whatever you want Jim, but I'm just sayin' that I haven't seen that hob goblin act all " McCoy pauses to make a weird hand motion that Jim can't even begin to parse, ", except with you. He knitted you a goddamn sweater, Jim. It's a monstrosity, but he made it for you." 

Jim huffs a sigh then frowns. "I mean, not that everybody isn't dying to get a bit of this," (McCoy lifts an eyebrow at this week attempt at being cocky) "but Spock is just Spock and a sweater isn't a love letter. A sweater, if anything, is a friend letter." 

McCoy rolls his eyes. "Whatever, kid."

***

Lying in his bed that night, Jim is honest with himself. He kinda wishes a sweater meant a love letter. Spock fits in practically every requisite Jim wants in a partner. Number one is he is fucking hot. Also an alien. A really hot alien, and Jim has had many times where he was brought out of his revelry of staring at Spock's hands or ears or his ass one too many times with a well placed "Captain?" or "Jim?".  
Number two, Spock is a genius. He also recognizes that Jim, too, is a high functioning individual and the things they talk about over chess or at the mess hall make Jim's brain want to shiver in a non-gross ways that brains can shiver. He can follow and keep up with the conversation, never condescended to as a simply, pretty, blond star ship captain. He's spoken to as if they're on the same wavelength (though, Jim has the tendency to take the Devil's advocate, but arguing with Spock of the schematics of intergalactic relations is fucking dream so eh) and their conversations has Jim hooked like Pavlov's dog, seeing Spock sitting or staring at him and already bringing up topics to discuss and debate and talk about over. The quiet 'fascinating' Jim hoards like a gluttonous dragon, given to him in moments when he truly surprises Spock.  
Number three, Spock cares. When Jim is experiencing uncouth displays of emotion, when tears are threatening to flow down his face after another shitty call with his mom, Spock doesn't turn away. He's careful and he talks quietly of le-matya's and Vulcan schools, placing his hand on Jim's arm in a gesture of reassurance (which Jim knows is a BIG DEAL because Spock doesn't do touching; except with his captain) and Jim... feels calm. For nights when he wants to fuck it and escape the world, he goes to McCoy. For the quiet things, Spock is there.

Jim thinks it over.

He is fucked. He is fuckity fuck fucked.

***

Jim's worn the sweater all of three times when Spock comes to him again, bearing gifts.  
Jim opens it with reluctance and, unsurprised, he lifts up the green, blue, and white swirling mess with an air of resignation. Goddammit.

"Gee, uh, thanks Spock. It's... very..." Jim searches for a word and Spock waits patiently. "Nifty."

Spock tilts his head a slight and scrutinizes his captain. "'Nifty', Jim?" 

Jim stares at Spock hard, looking for the slightest evidence that he is having the wool pulled over his eyes (haha, sweaters) by his first officer.  
A stoic yet tintedly curious looks meets him.  
"Yeah." Jim says grudgingly, bundling up the sweater close to him. "Nifty. This is a nifty sweater, Spock. Very... nice." 

"I see." Spock looks pleased and yeah, Jim is going to wear the sweater even though their is no semblance of pattern, just blob after blob of green and white over a blue background and good fucking lord, white trim.

**

Jim wears it to lunch. Nyota looks way too much like a smugly smirking cat, McCoy only shakes his head with a rueful smile, Chekov tries to bring up some conversation about an Aunt he had in Russia who knit him a sweater a day, and Sulu just grins and continues to fill his salad bowl. 

**

Later that day, Jim is with Spock in Jim's quarters, playing their daily chess game. An incoming call for Admiral Komack comes in, and, with the movements of people who have done this a million times before, both Jim and Spock move to the screen to answer, Jim sitting and Spock standing at attention besides him. 

Komack appears, his mouth open ready to talk, only to pause and stare at something on Jim's chest for all of 3 seconds.  
"Captain Kirk, may I ask what the hell it is you are wearing?" 

Jim fights the blush that threatens to overwhelm his face and then out of the corner of his eye he spots a half crooked smirk waring for possession of Spock's face.

That bastard. 

Jim is hasty to end the call and then rounds on Spock. 

"You.... You!"

"Yes, Jim?" 

"You _knew_ all along you utter bastard!" There isn't any anger behind the words only disbelief and exasperation and unnameable feelings that Jim would rather not disclose.

"I knew my sweaters held a certain.... charisma that would not be identified as beautiful, yes. It made a very good contrast to an aesthetically pleasing individual such as yourself."

"But!... Spock did you just call me hot."

"Yes, Jim."

"You pointy eared bastard" is Jim's mumbled reply as he jumps forward, and gives a careful peck to Spock's lips.

Spock paused a moment, and then _yessssss_ they're kissing and Jim feels electric through the fucking goddawful sweater he wears.

After a minute of quiet noises and an amazing amount of kisses, tongue and otherwise, Jim pauses and Spock does at his cue. 

"Why sweaters?" Jim asks.

 

"You didn't appear to notice that one was based on Vulcan-that-was and the other on Earth. Both of our homes, both that I would like to share with you."  
Jim thinks back on the orange and red sweater hidden in his closet and the blue one that is bunched under Spock's hands right now, and _son of a bitch_.  
"You are a complete sap, Spock!"  
"Yes, Jim." Spock says, then kisses him again.  



End file.
